


EAD Offerings 2019

by NimueOfTheNorth



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Doctor Who, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, James Bond (Craig movies), Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries, Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/F, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Sentinel Fusion, Temporary Character Death Implied, supposed Character Death (Canon)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 01:15:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17798324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NimueOfTheNorth/pseuds/NimueOfTheNorth
Summary: Happy Evil Author Day! These are a few stories I have on my mind and hope to get some progress on in the foreseeable future. No promises though; bunnies are distracting.





	1. A Sense Of Premonition - Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first three teasers are the beginnings of Sentinel Fusion stories I wrote for the 2016 & 2018 Littel Black Dress Challenges on Rough Trade. They need various degrees of editing that I will hopefully soon find the time and mood for. The other three are WIPs.
> 
> Nothing is betaed.
> 
> Summary for this chapter: George Hammond is a Sentinel with an unusual skill and it confronts Daniel with a whole new perspective on himself.

General George Hammond stood in the control room looking through it‘s window down into the gate room. His premier team had just returned from what passed for a normal mission and was joking over the colourful dirt they‘d all accumulated on their uniforms. It was good to see them getting back on an even keel.

They weren‘t as they used to be but that would be expecting a bit much. Daniel Jackson was grieving his wife, a widower at only 33. Hammond had heard voices around the mountain expressing a lack of understanding - to put it politely - as to why Jackson was grieving so severely now when his wife had been taken from him almost three years ago.

But Hammond could see the difference. Jackson might have lost his daily life with Sha‘re in the present three years prior but he‘d lost all hope for a life-long future with her only a couple of months ago. Feeling the guilt of failing her on top of the loss hardly helped.

That her death had come from the staff weapon of his own teammate, sent to save his life, just turned it all into a mess of confusing entangled emotions.

Hammond was still astounded by Daniel‘s easy forgiveness towards Teal‘c. However the young man had worked through that particular knot he‘d done so quickly and thoroughly. It didn‘t automatically mitigate Teal‘c‘s own guilt and the two men were still searching for a new foundation for their friendship.

If one knew what to look for it was visible even in the seemingly relaxed and innocent teasing that was going on in the gate room below right now. Daniel‘s eyes sought out Teal‘c more often, now longer blindly trusting that the big Jaffa would be were he was needed, that he was ready to step in with his decades of experience to save whatever mess they‘d found themselves in. Teal‘c for his part was even more respectful of Daniel‘s space, even more careful when choosing his words than he‘d always been.

It was a delicate balance and the other two members of SG-1 were caught in it with their metaphorical arms flailing. O‘Neill and Carter were friends with the both of them and while Daniel seemed to be the one more in need of their support nobody wanted to leave Teal‘c on his own, feeling like he was pushed out of their circle as a form of punishment where there was no blame to assign.

They all tried to play at normal until it hopefully became real again. As their superior Hammond couldn‘t do much to help them along. That was one of the downsides of teams with close personal relationships but he had every confidence that these four would find their footing again.

He breathed out a quiet sigh not wanting to alert the men and women in the control room to the fact that something was worrying him. It would only put them on alert unnecessarily and this situation was none of their concerns.

He worried about having to rock the barely calming boat that was SG-1 again. He worried about handing out yet another blow to one Dr. Daniel Jackson who had taken more than his share of blows already. But he was fairly certain that his time on this was running out and he worried even more about how things might go without his warning. There really wasn‘t anything for it.

He had to tell Jackson that he was about to come online as a Sentinel. He didn‘t expect it to go over well.

* * *

 

 

As you didn‘t make it to General in the United States Air Force by procrastinating Hammond decided there was no time like the present and the circumstances were as good as they‘d likely ever be.

So by the end of the debriefing on the mission to the planet with the rainbow mud - as Colonel O‘Neill had aptly named it - he called Jackson back when the team was about to head out of the door.

“Dr Jackson, I would like a few words with you in private if you have nothing urgent to get to.“ He pitched his voice more towards paternal than commanding officer. It still didn‘t get him the desired effect.

“What‘s the matter, George?“ Jack O‘Neill practically jumped to Jackson‘s defence. “Daniel has already torn into the people in his department for the misuse of base computers, you can‘t pin that on him. And we have a date with some nice cold beers and a pizza.“

“Jack, I can speak for myself, if you don‘t mind.“ Daniel‘s voice was just about to leave the range of exasperated and turn to outright annoyed. “Of course I have time for you, General, feel free to ignore your 2IC like the rest of us.“

“Hey! I‘m pretty not-ignorable. Tell him, Carter. Teal‘c?“

“I believe nobody requires my presence any longer. I will retreat to my quarters for my kel‘no‘reem.“

“I‘ll walk with you, Teal‘c. I would really like to borrow that book you told me about. I haven‘t read a good romance in ages. General, Daniel, have a nice evening.“

Teal‘c‘s delivery was as usual dry and without a flinch whereas Carter was struggling with her amusement while she preceded Teal‘c out of the conference room.

O‘Neill dutifully played the part of sore loser. “Very funny, you two,“ was what he called after them, “we‘ll see who laughs when I assign the next night watch, in the rain... with annoying bugs!“

“Colonel,“ Hammond chided. There were days when he wondered how O‘Neill hadn‘t annoyed other superiors too much to ever make his current position. There were even more days when he thanked all the gods that weren‘t actually parasites for it, despite the Colonel-wrangling he had to do on a regular basis.

“To put your worries to rest: I have no intention to blame Dr Jackson for anything. This has nothing to do with the kinky porn some of his linguists are apparently fond of, though I could have happily lived the rest of my life without a detailed report on the matter, pictures included.“

At this point Daniel was blushing rather unbecoming and obviously desperate for a change of topic. So Hammond tried to get the conversation back on track.

“I really just have something to talk about with Dr Jackson, something private. It will be completely up to him if he decides to share it with you over beers and pizza later or not. Now if you want to wait for him, I believe there are some reports you could get a head start  on for a change.“

That earned him a grumble from O‘Neill. “I guess I‘ll be in my office then. Come and pick me up when you‘re done, Dannyboy? And try not to take too long?“ The last sounded peculiarly close to a whine for an Air Force Colonel pushing fifty.

“I‘m sure it will take however long it takes, Jack.“ Jackson clearly wasn‘t ready to let O‘Neill out of the doghouse. “But you don‘t have to wait for me. I am perfectly capable to find my own way to your house, you know.“

“You‘ll just get lost and end up in your office instead. No, I‘ll rather wait. General.“ And with a sloppy salute he strolled out the same door Carter and Teal‘c had left through earlier.

Hammond let out a deep breath and with a head shake gestured towards his office, Daniel following him willingly enough.

“General, about that porn...“

“Don‘t worry about it, son. My sensibilities are not that delicate and you are not responsible for the stupidity of people you hired for their certified intelligence.“

“I‘m still contemplating having them do some training with Teal‘c as their punishment. Or have them run with Sergeant Miller, she is training for a marathon, you know.“

Hammond was relieved to see Daniel‘s spirits lighten and allowed himself a smile to go with it. He closed both office doors and engaged the white noise generator before he took his seat behind the desk, gesturing Daniel into one of his visitor chairs.

The younger man hesitated for a moment. With how high everybody‘s clearance was in the mountain, the generator was rarely used - and it usually promised unpleasant things lurking around the corner.

Hammond tried to ease his worries with another kind smile. “There is no sign of the apocalypse that I‘m aware of, Dr Jackson. The matter is just truly private and I‘d like to keep it that way in your best interest.“

Daniel sat down with a fortifying breath and looked at Hammond interested but by no means relaxed.

“You know that I‘m a Sentinel,“ was were Hammond decided to start.

“Yes, sir. You were among what is called the first wave of reemergence to come online. I admit I am supremely curious about your experiences at the time, but I‘d never dare to quiz you on it.“ Trust Dr Daniel Jackson to ignore the looming pink elephant of a personal issue and redirect the focus on an academic interest. Hammond would allow it for the moment.

“I was lucky all things considered. I came online when my unit got ambushed over Nam. It‘s all a little blurry even up to this day but I apparently ended up saving not just my own ass that night. Sight and reflexes have always been my strong suits and they just snapped into place that night. It took me forever to come down afterwards. I was so strung up I don‘t believe I would have been able to land safely.“

“It‘s been one of the biggest worries surrounding latent Sentinels among the military. Nobody can predict how they handle coming online in combat and what ill-effect it might have on them, their mission and their unit.“

“My own experience certainly was a mixed one. Even though I had no conscious control and was purely running on instinct I had a big part in getting us all out of there alive but I would have likely crashed my plane afterwards, flown it zoned out till the fuel ran out.“

“So what got you out of it? It‘s not like everyone learned basic approach guidelines for Sentinels in distress in elementary back then.“

“No, they didn‘t. That‘s were the luck came in. My co-pilot had a southern american background and his grandmother had told him all these legends and myths about the Protectors.“

“The Sentinels of the old times.“ Daniel said with reverence. “There was a time I was so fascinated by Dr Sandburg‘s work I actually considered focusing on the history of Sentinels and Guides in my anthropology work. I ended up putting a chapter about signs of the same concept in ancient Egyptian cultures into my dissertation.“

“Those old legends saved my life that night and my sanity in the days after. My co-pilot caught on to what was happening to me. We‘d flown together so much we were already really in tune with one another and reacting to his voice and guidance was second nature to me as pilot. As a Sentinel I just fell in line. He got me out of my zone and helped me through the landing.

“He also fought off those superiors and doctors who wanted to declare me insane. We didn‘t really have a concept of PTSD, that came up only years later. Some soldiers just went crazy when they couldn‘t handle the stress. That‘s the way it was thought about.“

“That train of thought did a great disservice to many good people. Not only Sentinels. Our society has a long standing tradition of locking away people they consider broken instead of trying to help them through it.“ Hammond could hear a note in Jackson‘s voice he would have described as personal grief. He didn‘t know the connection there so he led it rest.

“In the end my buddy dragged me to our priest who was not only a very well-educated and openminded guy but also had friends in high places. He was doing that kind of service out of sheer conviction. After a long talk about everything he pulled some strings and got me home to get some support. He installed the idea in the right people‘s heads that properly trained and supported Sentinels could be a great asset to the military. He is the quiet voice behind all the adjustments to regulations that have been put in place back then. Up to and including the exclusion of prosecution for homosexual relationships between Sentinels and their Guides.“

“I heard rumours that it was a catholic priest who pushed for that.“

“I can confirm that. I think he got some flack from the Vatican but by then the idea of Sentinels and their Guides being a gift from God to protect us against horrors like WW2 had already made the rounds and it spawned a rather impressive wave of acceptance. At least for this particular group.

“So I got sent back home and the brass was looking for ways to train people like me. The only thing looking like any kind of option was the only known expert on the subject. So that‘s who they recruited.“

“You received training from Blair Sandburg himself?“ Jackson‘s tone was utterly awed and Hammond openly enjoyed being the one to do that to him.

“The assumption was that Ellison would train the Sentinels and Blair would look for suitable Guides and get them up to speed. In reality Blair did it all and Ellison just tagged along for the ride. That‘s how they function on most issues up till this day, Ellison providing the calm and solid background that allows Blair his exuberant exploration of just everything. We still exchange Christmas cards and the occasional phone call on birthdays.“

Daniel‘s face turned thoughtful. “Not that I‘m not enjoying this story time immensely, General, but what has all of that to do with me?“

“You are a latent Sentinel yourself, Dr Jackson.“

“I‘m aware but I don‘t anticipate it becoming a problem.“

And there was the attitude Hammond had been worried about.

“Why would it be a problem?“ That wasn‘t the question Jackson had expected which was the point.

“Your story is a good example as to why coming online during combat is a bit like Russian roulette. Given the situations SG-1 could find themselves in if I were to come online during a mission the results could be disastrous. My adjustment period would put us out of commission for an indefinite amount of time. Finding a Guide, vetting them and reading them in on the project would just be an added bureaucratic nightmare.“

“And why don‘t you anticipate any of this to actually come up?“

“Because I don‘t think I‘ll ever come online.“ It was a flat statement full of certainty. Now, what to do with that?

“Why ever would you think that?“

“I‘m already significantly above the average age to come online and given how many stressful and potentially triggering situations I‘ve been through over the last couple of years I‘d assume if it was going to happen it would have happened already.“

“Any thoughts on why it didn‘t happen for you?“

“I guess I‘m just not the type.“

Hammond kept his sigh internal, it would only get Jackson‘s guard up otherwise. A clash of social stereotype and self-perception was one of the obstacles he had feared getting in the way. He didn‘t always appreciate being right.

“I beg to differ on that, Dr Jackson.“

“How is a scrawny pacifist and academic from the social sciences anybody‘s idea of a Sentinel? Jack fits that bill, just like you, even though he is a mundane.“

“It may not be everybody‘s first idea but you and I both know that stereotypes and first assumptions don‘t always hold up under scrutiny.“ Hammond could literally sense Jackson‘s protest coming so he didn‘t let him get a word in. “Answer me this: Why did you join SG-1?“

“To find and rescue my wife, of course. Not that it actually did Sha‘re any good.“ The emotional tone flickering from indignation to sadness in the blink of an eye. But Hammod knew he could only push further.

“And why are you still on the team?“

“Because I want to fight the Goa‘uld in Sha‘re‘s memory, avenge her as good as I can and make our galaxy the safe place it should have been for her.“

“And why did you stay on Abydos to begin with?“

“To fulfil my duties as her husband, to care for her and cherish her like she deserved. It‘s all always been for her!“ Daniel‘s emotional anguish was palpable and Hammond was certain the younger man was struggling to hold back his tears but he had a point to drive home or he wouldn‘t get through to him.

“I do not mean to diminish the memory of your wife in any way, I do not mean to diminish your love for her either, but are you absolutely sure that that is all?“ He made sure to pitch his voice very soft and none-threatening. He needed Daniel to listen to him, not to stomp out the door. He was unlikely to get another chance on this.

“What do you mean?“

“There are many men who have their wives or their children taken from them in one fashion or another. They don‘t all automatically join a frontline team to try and retrieve them. You may hate the very idea of what the Goa‘uld are and represent but you are not a vengeful man by nature. Yes, you want to make the galaxy a better place and you want to do it to honour your late wife but you‘re also doing for each and every innocent living in this galaxy, to give  _ them _ a better chance, a safer life. You prove that with each and every passionate argument for a humanitarian mission.

“You stayed on Abydos instead of bringing your wife to earth were things would have been safer and more comfortable for the two of you in many ways, because you felt responsible for the people of Abydos as a whole. You had just liberated them from a suppressive tyrant, you had turned their whole world and believes upside down and you couldn‘t be sure they could handle it. You stayed at least partly because you felt responsible for them all and you wanted to look out for them, defend them against the threats that might arise from their new circumstances.

“Just because you had personal motives to go along with it doesn‘t mean you didn‘t act on a strong protective imperative that is a natural part of who you are just as much as what you are.“

Hammond let the silence between them last for a couple of minutes giving Daniel a chance to reevaluate his perception of himself and his actions.

“Let me ask you another question,“ he eventually cut in. He had to wait a little until the other man lifted his eyes and gave him his attention again. “Can you honestly tell me that your talent for languages has nothing to do with an above average sense of hearing?“

“I‘m not sure I can follow. My senses have been tested as part of my regular check-ups and I test in the ranges of mundanes for all five, no pre-emergence surpassing of the curve at all. That‘s another reason I never really believed I would ever come online.“

“The standard tests are rather blunt instruments. If we‘re talking about hearing they test how quiet something can be before you no longer hear it. But there is more than the physiological ability to hear to why Sentinels are so far above the capabilities of mundanes. Our brains process sensory input differently and that is the part of our gift we can and have to train. The physiology is just there and gets practically switched on when we come online.

“You, Dr Jackson, have an extraordinary mind and your ability to decipher languages in any form is certainly an expression of your intelligence. But we have many linguists that can read and write and decipher the written form of languages in the mountain. Not a single one of them is anywhere close to your ability to pick up a language you‘ve only heard little bits and pieces off. 

“You catch on to the nuances of pronunciations and are able to replicate them with little to no effort. You can imitate dialects and lilts to the point that you can blend into a native population without raising any sort of suspicion in practically no time at all. I don‘t mean any insult to your profession and education, but I won‘t believe for a moment that your refined hearing and your heightened ability to process auditive information has no part in this.“

He granted Daniel time to let all of this sink it yet again.

“So you think my pre-emergence skill just slips by the standard testing,“ Daniel stated after a while. “You may have a point there but that doesn‘t mean I‘m going to come online. My main point still stands, I‘m too old and I have lived through so many possible triggers I should be online if it was ever going to happen.“

By now his foremost expert on ancient and foreign cultures, who had started - and ended - his academic career by shamelessly turning an established worldview on its axis was clinging to his own personal worldview with the desperation of a man dangling off the edge of a precipice.

Hammond didn‘t like pushing on because the fall was potentially unpleasant. There just was no going back, the inevitability of what was coming was why he‘d started this conversation to begin with.

“We‘ve had Sentinels emerge everywhere between eight and sixty-two. The one truth about statistical averages is that nobody actually meets them. And while many Sentinels come online due to a triggering event, almost as many don‘t, it just seems to be their time. And between you and me, the ones with triggers are just ready for it to happen as well, it‘s just the last push. I for sure had had my share of heavy air fights before the one that brought me online.“

Daniel was wavering. Hammond assumed that he had pretty much convinced the academic in him. But the man who had suffered through a number of emotional blows lately just couldn‘t accept yet another change, so he kept fighting.

“I still don‘t see how this concerns me. This whole discussing while truly fascinating is utterly academic in nature because I am not coming online.“

“Yes, you are.“

  
  



	2. Two Out Of Three - Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotch has always enjoyed his friendship with Dave Rossi. When the team and Hotch himself are struggling, it could bring them even closer together.

“You did what?“ The fury in Hotch‘s voice was ice-cold.

It wasn‘t often that the very controlled man let himself react to a situation so intensely but once he did, all bets were off. It usually happened when someone was brave enough - or stupid enough - to threaten someone he considered one of his own, be it his wife, son or teammates.

Today it looked to be a threat and an insult against an old friend and against himself. It should probably give him pause that he was uncharacteristically mad on his own behalf, but if he‘d still been in a position to think about things like that he probably wouldn‘t be in this mess, to begin with, so that was a moot point.

Instead, his ire was directed against his superior, Section Chief Erin Strauss. The woman was a pain in his butt on the best of days, to put a fine point to it, but what she had done now was really beyond the pale.

“Agent Hotchner, Aaron, would you please sit down and hear me out? I believe we can discuss this situation like two reasonable adults.“ If Strauss had at least the smallest clue about profiling she‘d seen that a patronising tone was the surest way to push Hotchner even further.

“I don‘t see what we could possibly have left to discuss. You have clearly made up your mind and put everything into action, so there is little point. You won‘t make me feel any better about this and neither will I play along so you can delude yourself about having convinced me.

“You think we can‘t do our jobs without oversight - our closure rates say differently. You think me incapable of leading this team - yet at the same time, you fear me as dangerous competition for your job. You ask me to trust and respect you - while you go behind me every chance you get. You will excuse, Section Chief Strauss, that I am not overly inclined to overlook the insult in your latest decision.“

“Your team may still be functioning, but they are hardly at their best,“ she held up a hand and pushed on when Hotchner was about to interrupt, “which is only to be expected given the events of the last few months. The fact is that Gideon has been labelled with a big red question mark for what, the last two years? I‘m afraid some of him died in that warehouse along those six agents.

“You were supposed to step in as the interim team lead and it has grown into a permanent situation without further discussion. Don‘t think I‘m not aware of how little Gideon contributes to the duties of Unit Chief, no matter what you think, I am not blind.“ Now Strauss‘ own temper was running short. This wasn‘t shaping up to be the helpful intervention it was intended to be.

She tried to get back on track and took a calming breath. So far Hotchner hadn‘t walked out on her. “I do trust your team to do their job but after everything they‘ve been through they need some time to heal, both individually and as a team. The Bureau has no interest in burning out talented people like yours. There is no shame in having some support for this healing.

“I also don‘t believe you incapable, quite the opposite. I see how much you do, how much time you invest. Aaron, how long can that go on? I don‘t see Gideon getting back to the point where he will do more than the bare minimum of paperwork and he is most certainly not up to mentoring all those brilliant young minds you have there. And you yourself can only do so much. Your day has only 24 hours, just like everybody else‘s.“

Hotchner had finally taken a seat and looked somewhat deflated. “I‘d still preferred if you‘d talked to me about all this instead of calling in reinforcements without my knowledge. I know there are a number of issues that haven‘t quite healed over, yet. I was actually hoping to arrange time off for the whole team to give everyone a chance to readjust.“

“While that might be a good idea somewhere along the way, it is currently impossible. The second team will be down for at least three more weeks due to injuries and even then, I don‘t think a holiday will magically fix all your problems.“ 

Aaron decided that a compassionate Erin was kind of creepy, but he couldn‘t very well argue with her reasoning. Hell, right now he was almost afraid what would happen if Reid was left to his own devices for days on end. At least work gave the kid a reason to keep it together and something to distract his brilliant eidetic mind from the thrice-damned hell he‘d been through.

Seeing an opening in his armour, Strauss pushed on.

“You also have yourself to consider, Aaron.“

And just like that, his hackles were up again - not that she noticed.

“You aren‘t any more impervious to the stress than anybody else, probably even less because you‘ve been doing this job without a Guide for all these years. Your control and stability are impressive, don‘t get me wrong. But it is an additional factor that weighs on you.“

Arcanus, his cougar, appeared beside his chair, adding his own hackles to Aaron‘s metaphorical ones. The large cat had a habit of joining him but staying invisible to anyone around and was currently hissing at the oblivious Erin.

“I‘m sorry to say this, but I‘ve noticed a few instances that make me believe you are losing control over your senses, that you are experiencing some spikes and maybe even short zones.“

“Chief Strauss, with all due respect,“ and the clenched teeth said loud and clear that that wasn‘t much, “how I handle my Sentinel abilities is of no concern to the FBI. It is private and a matter of medical confidentiality for a reason. I have had a check-up only three weeks ago and was declared fit for duty with no reservations. That is exactly all you need to know about my senses.“ He would never admit to having trouble with his senses, least of all to Strauss.

He could feel his rage rising again. “If that is your motivation, it makes your actions even more deplorable. That you would call David Rossi out of retirement not for his abilities as a profiler and experience as an agent but rather for the simple fact that he is a Guide is utterly insulting. You also managed to abuse not only your own friendship with Dave bot mine right along with it. Congratulations, Chief Strauss, to this exemplary display of leadership qualities.“ He didn‘t even make a token effort to conceal his sarcasm and disdain.

“Agent Hotchner!“ Now it was Strauss who‘d gotten out of her chair. “You are completely out of line. I will excuse your behaviour based on what we‘ve discussed before but you‘d do well not to slap away a helping hand where it‘s offered or the argument you and your wife had in the parking lot last week will not stay the only one. Are you really so married to your career that you‘ll risk losing your son over it?!“

The next few moments were a blur.

Arcanus for once became visible and hissed and snarled at the obviously shocked Strauss.

Aaron pointed a finger at her and said in a deceptively calm tone: “You will stay out of my personal affairs or I will drag you in front of the S&G-board of the bureau and it won‘t be pretty.“

He‘d vaguely heard the door opening behind him but it only really registered when a familiar hand appeared on his outstretched arm and started to pull him back.

“And on that note,“ a warm male voice interjected, “I believe we‘ll be leaving. Erin, you should stay out of this, you‘ve done quite enough. Aaron, let‘s head for your office and chat a little. I‘m hoping you haven‘t already gone through the whole bottle of ridiculously high-quality scotch I gave you for your birthday. I think we might want one.“

 

* * *

 

Dave had lead Aaron to his office and just glared down everyone in the bullpen who‘d made any advances towards them. Aaron seemed mostly lost in his anger if the still visible and snarling Arcanus with his swishing tail was anything to go by. He could barely remember the last time he‘d seen Aaron like this and it had been due to a very ugly case and a dangerously uncooperative police department.

The door was locked behind them, the blinds were drawn and Dave had pushed Aaron onto the couch when the younger man had headed for his desk. He easily found the scotch and glasses and poured a very small measure for the both of them. As much as he enjoyed good liquor, drinking on the job just wasn‘t done. It got people killed. The way he knew Aaron he was pretty sure he‘d be sniffing the drink more than he‘d actually drink it.

He dropped himself on the other end of the couch and handed over the glass, smirking when Hotch held it up to look at the play of light and colour in the liquid and then took a deep sniff of the aroma.

“Have you calmed down some?“

“I‘m not mad at you, Dave, you must know that. You‘re a very good friend and I always appreciate the time we get to spend together. I can‘t even say that the job wouldn‘t be easier with you around. I try not to lie to good friends, let alone a Guide. It‘s just the way Strauss did it that infuriates me.“ He let the scotch swirl in his glass.

“That much was obvious. You weren‘t all that quiet when you berated her, which, for the record, I found highly entertaining. Erin is the type career bureau that believes manipulation is not only a valid means to an end but also a necessary weapon in her arsenal if she wants to get anywhere. Given the misogyny that she faced at the beginning of her career and that hasn‘t completely dissipated to this day, I can‘t even say I don‘t understand her reasoning. Doesn‘t mean I don‘t want to call bullshit on it far too often.“

“Weren‘t you trying to get under her skirt before you retired?“ Aaron knew very well that David had more than tried but that was a mental image he just didn‘t need to contemplate in that very moment.

“Never let it be said that a Rossi doesn‘t appreciate the fairer gender when it comes his way. Besides, I‘m a Guide. Everybody knows that sex makes us feel good. Don‘t you watch the movies?“

Aaron snorted. “Please, when has Hollywood ever portrayed anything realistically? Sex makes everybody feel good when it‘s done right and you, my good friend, have lived fairly solitary over the last decade or so for a man supposedly requiring it to function.“

“I‘m getting older, my young friend, I‘m getting old,“ Dave answered and earned himself another snort for his theatrics. At least Aaron was winding down and Arcanus had jumped on the couch between them, making himself comfortable with his head in Aaron‘s lap and his butt, hind legs and tail snuggled up against Dave‘s thigh.

The spirit animal actually had Dave worried. Both the facts that it stayed visible so long and that it so openly searched physical contact to him were very unusual and signs of distress. He wasn‘t about to pet the large cat because that was a whole different level but he did make sure not to withdraw the contact the spirit had established.

“So, you wanna talk about what‘s going on?“

“Not really, but somehow I get the feeling that you‘re not actually giving me that option.“

“Well, you‘ve always been an intelligent man and a good reader of people. You don‘t have to tell me everything that‘s bothering you but something is going on. Erin isn‘t a complete moron and you practically admitted it yourself. So spill. What‘s the situation on the team? What could I help with? How are your senses? How are Haley and Jack doing? Anything, Aaron. Just talk. You do that too rarely.“

Aaron took a deep breath and for the first time sipped on his drink, savouring the taste. Dave took a sip of his own, treading the narrow line between companionable alcohol consumption and not pushing to get somebody drunk.

“The team is a mess, to be perfectly honest.“ That was more of an admission right up front than Dave had expected to get in an hour or two. Not a good sign. “Right now the only ones I don‘t worry about at all are JJ and Garcia, that‘s or liaison and or technical analyst by the way.“

“So what makes you worry about all of your profilers?“

“You know Jason. You know how he carries cases and victims and loss around with him. For all the demands he makes on others to keep it professional and keep the necessary distance he‘s not all that good with compartmentalising himself. It‘s eating him up inside a little at a time.“ He fell quiet for a bit but this time Dave didn‘t prod him, feeling that there was more to come.

“Have you heard about our latest case in Nevada?“

“Frank Breitkopf? Yes, of course. It is a very fascinating case in many ways. He could actually become someone I‘ll write about at some point.“

“It feels like he‘s going to be the final straw for Jason. I can see him struggling with himself about having lost him and lost to him and what Breitkopf will do in the future because of that. They seem unhealthily fascinated by one another and however we come across Frank next, it will be personal and ugly. I think Jason feels the same and the fact that he‘s practically waiting for it, waiting for his own breakdown, worries me.“

“Jason has been in the game long enough. He‘s surrounded by the best profilers and has easy access to any number of therapeutic options. If he still plays the lone wolf rather than utilise all that skill around him, I don‘t see what you could do. Of course, you can‘t rely on him either. What about the others?“

“I‘m not sure were Prentiss‘ loyalties lie.“ And from there it became a liberating cascade about Strauss likely having planted Prentiss as a spy and Aaron not quite believing Emily would play such games but still not feeling able to trust her unconditionally. He moved on to the awkwardness of having Derek arrested for murder, based on one of Jason‘s profiles of all things, only to find out he‘d been in fact a victim of the same child molester that was the real murderer in question. How it had rather thrown their team dynamics and they were still looking for a new idea of balance under these new circumstances. How Derek was still hurt by the accusations, the confrontation with his tormentor and having his uncomfortable past out in the open for his colleagues to see.

After that, they both were good and ready for another careful sip of scotch.

“What about your youngest? Both Jason and you have told me about the genius you found on occasion.“

Hotch sighed. “You have to promise me that this stays between us, Dave. Promise me on everything you hold holy.“ The intensity in his voice and the yet again swishing tail of Arcanus had Rossi tense.

“You know I would never break a confidence, Aaron. You have my word on our friendship that I won‘t speak of it to anyone.“

It wasn‘t lost on Aaron that of all things a raised Catholic could swear on David had chosen their friendship - and it helped.

“First, during that awful Fisher King case, he had to reveal to all of us that his mother is a paranoid schizophrenic. The Fisher King was actually after us because he used to live in the same institution as her and she‘d told him about us. It put quite a bit of guilt on his shoulders, no matter what any of us would say.“

“Wasn‘t that the case where Agent Greenaway got shot?“

“Yes. An injury and trauma that not so indirectly led to her leaving the team. Trust me, I carry my own load of guilt about that.“

“But that‘s not what has you really worried about him.“

“No.“ Aaron took a moment to make up his mind. “How much did the grapevine tell you about the case in Georgia?“

“You mean beyond the official version of a young man, whose insanely religious father had tortured him into a dissociative personality disorder and made him kill perceived sinners? I heard that an agent was taken hostage and tortured and that it was said agent who delivered the killing shot while he was supposed to dig his own grave. Quite a feat I might say.“

“That agent was Reid.“ Aaron‘s tone was suspiciously flat. “What we kept utterly quiet is that the original personality, Tobias Hankel, tried to help Reid the only way he himself had ever found relief.“

Dave was actually afraid to ask but he was fairly certain he needed to know and Aaron needed to share. “How?“

“Dilaudid.“

The word hung between them like the proverbial sword of Damocles.

“I take it he isn‘t handling it so well.“

“I know he took some phials from Hankel. I know he didn‘t tell his doctors or he would be on mandatory medical leave. Unfortunately he‘d also have a permanent mark on his record. I didn‘t say anything because he‘s been violated enough, I don‘t have to add to that. But he‘s barely holding it together and I‘m worried. I‘m focused on him whenever I can. I feel like a stalker for keeping track of his heartbeat, not only at work but I drive by his place when I leave the office just to check on him with my hearing. I can smell the drugs around him, his distress, his longing.“

“But you can‘t smell the drugs in his system?“

“No, not since that night we found him and he practically collapsed in my arms. I can‘t properly acknowledge the risk without breaking his trust and taking his work away from him. He needs the distraction or his overactive mind will only long for the oblivion of the drug even more. And I don‘t know who else but me will look out for him.“

“As much as I admire your sense of responsibility, you can‘t take care of everybody. But we‘ll figure something out.“

“We?“

“Yes, we, Aaron. You said it yourself, the team is a mess and your co-leader is part of the problem. And not only are you running yourself ragged over everyone‘s problems you‘re also overtaxing your senses with your permanent vigilance over Reid. I‘ve heard enough to know that you need support and for once in your life you will accept it, Aaron Hotchner, or I will make you regret it.“

Aaron actually smiled a little before growing sober again. “But you are retired and you have your writing, Dave. You got away from this and I don‘t want to be the reason you are dragged back into the mess. Talking to you helped and I should probably do that more often if you don‘t mind. But please don‘t feel obligated to take up the badge again only because of me.“

“Aaron, if you call our friendship an obligation again, I will drag you of to a private tropical island, throw your cellphone in the ocean and force you to do nothing but relax for a whole fortnight.“

“Hey now, that would be unjustly cruel,“ Aaron showed a bit of levity again.

“I want to help, Aaron,“ Dave insisted. “Retirement in a big empty house isn‘t all it‘s made out to be and I would like to feel useful again, especially to a good friend. Please, let me help?“

Hotch looked at him and felt himself cave. He was fraying at the edges. He was a little overwhelmed by the issues among the team. And there were the fights with Haley he hadn‘t even told Dave about. He desperately wanted his friend back in his life and not just for an occasional phone call or drink.

Looking down on his spirit he noticed how the cougar was not so subtly bridging the gap between them and touching Dave. And damn him if that connection didn‘t feel good and helped him balance his senses like he‘d always done when Dave was around. He sighed and gave in.

“Okay.“

“Okay? You mean you‘ll let me on the team and let me help not only them but you as well?“

“You drive a hard bargain but yes, okay to all of that. One condition: You and Strauss figure out how you sell this to Jason. I‘m staying out of that.“

“Deal.“ And Dave leaned over a now purring cougar to clink their glasses together before they finally emptied them.

  
  



	3. The Smell Of Eucalyptus - Chapters 1 & 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staying unbonded sounds all nice and independent until you're in a messy situation in the field and can't help your fellow agent enough because your senses are limited. Eve certainly isn't M's biggest fan right now.

**1**

Eve barely stopped the car at the curb to let Bond get in before she accelerated again. Bond, James Bond, 007, infamous agency legend, fellow Sentinel, and womanizer extraordinaire. Though the rumour mill had it that the last one had stopped because Bond had found his Guide. How had her plain and boring babysitting mission for a member of the committee for international cooperation in education turned into something that put Bond in her passenger seat?

She was taking a sharp turn into one of the narrow and ancient streets of Istanbul, focusing on not losing their target. Who cared about a wing mirror? 

“That’s all right. You weren’t using it.”

Of course, the bloody bastard beside her would. Rich, coming from the man who’d rarely returned more than pieces of any company car given to him to headquarters. There were plenty of betting pools how much longer Q-branch would give him any equipment at all. A wonder he didn’t make his comment a misogynistic one. 

Well, two could play that game. A well-aimed swerve to the left, and the other one was gone as well.

“I wasn’t using that one either.”

She caught his approving half-smile from the corner of her eye. Maybe the man wasn’t as impossible as she’d feared. The instant kinship she felt to him would have been even more weird otherwise. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was about Bond, and the theories some academics had voiced about different strength levels and natural hierarchy amongst Sentinels flashed through her mind. 

She’d grown up to respect hierarchy and authority - from her military father, over her own decision to serve and protect in the Royal Navy, being offered more specialised training with MI5 as so many Sentinels and then hand-picked for MI6 much younger than most. But she’d also been raised by a clever and strong mother and had never trusted anyone’s authority blindly. Bond had her close, and she wasn’t sure why.

But this was hardly the situation for getting to know your colleague. The chase and the stakes at hand made adrenaline rush through her bloodstream, narrowing her focus. Protect the tribe,  _ her _ tribe, not just the random faces flying by outside the car, but her fellow agents, men and women who’d chosen to serve and protect the public, like her, whether they were Sentinels, Guides or mundanes. It revved up her senses and she had to wrangle them down to a controllable level or risked causing a serious accident.

Police sirens yowled behind her and made her hearing spike for a moment before she stamped down on it, filtering them out as unimportant as she’d been trained to do. Market booths, more innocent people, less room to manoeuvre - she was frantically looking for a solution, bumping into the Audi in the hopes of slowing it down but anxious not to force it into the crowd.

Suddenly, Bond’s hand was there on the steering wheel, sure and strong, and she just let go, trusting him. With one decisive jerk to the right, the Audi went flying and sliding off on his side, and they were crashing into a display of spices.

Her nose filled with sweet, sharp, hot, cinnamon, chilli, oregano, mint, cumin, pepper- her reflexes made her follow Bond’s order to keep down or she’d surely caught a bullet. Her head was swimming between the onslaught of smells, the noise of guns and bullets and chaos all around, and the adrenaline still urging her to act, to protect.

With all the mental discipline hammered into her, she grabbed onto the one image in her mind that promised refuge. It came easily, sharp and vivid. The next breath she took was clear and fresh and home. And she could think again.

Looking up she saw their target speeding off on a motorbike and Bond just appropriating one to go after him. Naturally. Between the panicked masses, the buildings and awnings, they were out of sight in moments.

No reason to stop.

She slammed her fist and elbow into the bullet hole ridden windshield and window and demanded assistance from Tanner. She’d be damned if she left another Sentinel alone in this mess.

“I’ll get there. Just keep talking to me,” she requested to have something to ground herself on. Tanner wasn’t a Guide but they’d done some training courses together and she’d found his utterly British unflappability quite soothing. It would have to do.

By the time she had gotten out of the throng of people on the marketplace, Bond and their target were long out of sight - and apparently on the roofs of the Grand Bazaar, go figure - but Eve was catching up again on the ground, following the directions given in Tanner’s calm voice. 

She could have done without M’s unnecessary statement of the obvious.

While Bond was taking the scenic route, the last thing Eve needed was a traffic jam.

“Where are they headed? Any way out?”

“Take a left. There’s a bridge. You can cut him off.”

She didn’t hesitate and threw the car in reverse, the long-lost wing mirrors shortly coming to mind as she turned in her seat to back up. She dented the taxi anyway. She needed more space.

The slalom through the oncoming traffic became a haze, her sight narrowing in on the bridge and the motorcycle heading her way at breakneck speed. She vaguely registered a lorry flipping on its side behind her. A convenient road block. As soon as she’d stopped the Land Rover with screeching tires, she was out, their target taking the only open escape across the bannister. Why couldn’t people duck properly? And faster? There was no way to make that shot.

And then Bond was flying onto the train. The man should have considered a career as a stuntman with that flair for the dramatic.

At least they hadn’t completely lost their target yet.

M was in her ear, demanding a report.

“They are on the train, ma’am.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean they’re on top of a train.” What else was there to say? This was Bond they were talking about after all. M really shouldn’t sound this surprised.

“Well, get after them, for God’s sake!”

Sure. Obviously. She was only one entire level above the tracks and in a completely different form of transportation. Get after them. Easy peasy.

  
  


 

**2**

She found her way through the accumulating chaos, down onto the dirt road beside the tracks, pushing the pedal to keep up with the train. It wasn’t exactly reassuring to hear that MI6 was losing track of them but she couldn’t worry about that. Eve’s eyes scanned the road ahead for possible obstacles. Finding none, she focused on Bond, who she had spotted hiding behind some heavy machinery.

She choose to ignore M. A high-speed chase with flying bullets did not lend itself to a running commentary for the boss.

Climbing into the excavator seemed an odd choice for Bond, making him a sitting duck, and sure enough, the next volley of bullets ripped through the little cab within seconds. The arm with the shovel of the excavator came swinging round and slammed into the cargo. Eve had to focus on dodging the cars dropping into her path and the dust thrown up by them for a few seconds, winding her way through the tumbling metal.

“What was that?” she heard M ask demandingly over her comm, and this time, she couldn’t hold back at the ridiculousness.

“VW Beetles - I think.”

She drew even with Bond again. When she caught a glance at him, her breath caught for a moment at the blood on Bond’s right shoulder, the bullet hole in his suit jacket. All double-0 agents were trained exceptionally well to deal with pain, the Sentinels even more so. That didn’t mean the wound wouldn’t hinder him in apprehending their target, once he caught up with him. Nothing she could do about that.

Looking for what kind of support she could provide, she accelerated further to see why their hitman was firing downwards.

“Bond, he’s uncoupling the cars.”

There was already a gap opening between them. Eve watched with rapt attention as Bond drove the excavator over the cars still on the train and rammed the shovel into the next carriage, tearing it open. She relied completely on her peripheral vision to keep the Rover on the road as Bond used the machine as a bridge and leaped into the now wrecked carriage.

“007, are you all right?” So M could care for the important part after all.

But of course, his flippant reply didn’t satisfy the wexing woman and Eve had a hard time staying polite in the requested report. “It’s rather hard to explain, ma’am. 007 is still in pursuit.” At least that was the truly important part in her opinion.

The train drove into a tunnel and she had to follow the road off to the right. She sped up to make up the difference, hoping the road would join the tracks again. A bumpy left turn onto a road - of sorts - and she was driving along the train again but now with trees hindering her sight.

She spotted Bond on top of the train, in a vicious fight with their target. The rough road she was on was much more curvy and uneven than the first stretch and she had to force her attention ahead to not lose control.

The next glance to the left she risked, her eyes narrowed in on the dark yellow rectangle that was the infinitely important hard drive. It was on a chain around the hitman’s neck and Bond was doing his level best to strangle the man with it. 

If only it was as close as it felt.

The train went into another tunnel and Eve gritted her teeth, flying over the next piece of road as fast as she possibly could. She felt her senses slipping, exhaustion creeping in on her after the cacophony of input. It surely couldn’t have been only a few minutes with everything that had happened, could it?

Mental images weren’t cutting it anymore and for the first time she fully appreciated why most departments and agencies around the world only allowed bonded Sentinels into the field. She’d thought MI6 progressive, had been thankful for the chance their policy had given her. Now she was wondering if that had been a mistake.

She was in the middle of nowhere and the road was running out. Even the Range Rover wouldn’t make it over the uneven ground beyond the path at any kind of helpful speed to keep up with the train. Her options were limited. To her left, the tracks continued on top of a viaduct crossing high over a riverbed. It was a long shot but by no means impossible. She had the gun for it in the back. She had the training.

Picking a clear spot of road she rushed to set up for a rescuing shot. 

Her heart was beating too fast, the adrenaline was rushing in her ears, and she had a hard time calming her breath. In theory, she’d do better relying on her own enhanced sight to take aim but the stress of the chase was taking its toll and she worried about zoning out or overloading in the bright sunlight. That was absolutely the last thing she needed right now. 

The train exited the tunnel and Eve waited for Bond and the hitman to appear. Chocolate, her panther, appeared and rested his strong body against her side, trying to calm her further with his solidity. But a spirit was no replacement for a Guide and her heart was still racing, her breath still coming in short puffs.

There the two man were, barely out of the tunnel already back on their feet, fighting over the hard drive. She had a clear line of sight, had chosen her spot well.

“I may have a shot.” 

Before headquarters could even respond, the train came too far through the curve and Bond was now between her and their target. The fight wasn’t going well. The hitman had 007 from behind and was putting pressure on his throat. With a flash of blue light, Bond’s spirit animal appeared behind them and slithered up and around the man, trying to strangle him as was her nature. But as solid as spirits could appear to Sentinels and Guides, they were nothing to a mundane. She was at best a nuisance to the hitman. But her appearance made Eve more desperate to help somehow. Double-0s didn’t let the world see their spirits and Bond was especially private with his. The only reason the Anaconda would appear like this, was a desperate need to use every tiny advantage. They could have always been lucky and the man might have proven to be a sensitive much more rattled by the appearance of a 12’ snake.

Eve caught Bond’s eye for the split of a second. He knew where she was and what she was prepared to do but could neither turn nor throw off his opponent.

“It’s not clean. Repeat, I do not have a clean shot.” With a quick glance over her shoulder she checked what she already knew over her surroundings. “There’s a tunnel ahead. I’m gonna lose them.”

“Can you get into a better position?”

Eve was infinitely glad her missions didn’t normally garner the attention of the boss if today was any indication for the kind of questions and demands the woman threw at her operatives all the time. “Negative, there is no time.”

Her instincts were screaming at her to do something, help her fellow Sentinel, eliminate the threat to the tribe. Her senses were fighting her, trying to focus more, hone in on the men on the train, and at the same time threatening to leave her hanging due to fatigue.

Chocolate pushed his head against her wrist, a quiet support, as much as he could give her.

“Take the shot.” The order came sharp and decisive.

Her training kicked in and Eve lined up her gun. But she couldn’t do it.

“I said, take the shot.” M sounded annoyed now.

The way the men were fighting, there was no telling who’d end up in the way of the bullet in the time it would take her to pull the trigger and send it flying across the valley.

“I can’t. I may hit Bond.” Everything in her protested against taking that risk, hurting one of her tribe, someone her Sentinel side looked up to and trusted.

“Are you a Sentinel or not? Take the bloody shot!”

Training over instinct.

Authority over best judgement.

Eve took the shot.

And everything froze.

Bond jerked backwards.

His spirit flashed bright blue and vanished.

His eyes caught hers for a moment. Understanding.

He fell backwards.

Her senses went after him, stretching not to lose him.

Watching him fall.

Hearing the air rush past him. His erratic heartbeat.

The smell of his blood.

When he hit the water, the splash was deafening and it made her gasp, taking in air after she had held her breath. Her hand immediately went to Chocolate and she buried her fingers in his thick fur, feeling him just as tense as her. She could barely make out Bond in the wild waters of the river. But his heartbeat was still there, she hadn’t lost it yet. And she thought she saw traces of psionic blue swimming after Bond. That was a good sign.

Somewhere, on the edge of her vision she registered their target vanishing into the next tunnel and out of her reach. But he wasn’t important right now.

The heartbeat drifted out of range, lost to the rushing waters and the distance. But she was certain it was still going.

Eve hadn’t even registered that her comm had been completely silent.

“Agent down.”

There was nothing for a moment. Then M came on, sounding defeated.

“Return home.”

“Ma’am, I should go after 007. I’m in the best position to find him.”

“We will send a team to retrieve him.”

Retrieve. Like one would retrieve a body. That’s how she made it sound.

“I’m ordering you to-”

“You’re breaking up, ma’am.” She ripped her comm out of her ear and smashed it on a stone.

She had followed one order against her better judgement and it had gone horribly wrong. She’d be damned if she failed Bond again because of their boss. M had asked her whether or not she was a Sentinel. Of course she was. But maybe she had never before felt quite this clearly what that meant to her. The boss might not be happy with the consequences of that realisation.

She took a moment to close her eyes and take a few deep breaths, finding her centre and pulling her senses back to a more moderate level.

She thought of copper hair and tweed. Strong tea and stronger whisky.

On the way back to the car, she pulled a private burner phone out of her pocket, old and hard to trace. She typed in a text and then typed in a number from memory.

_ I’m doing something probably stupid but necessary. Wish me luck! _

A quick scan of the terrain and the map she’d made sure was in the car before the whole mess began had her on the quickest way down to the river a little bit downstream when the phone beeped with an answer.

_ Of course you are. Try not to die. I’ll water the plants. _

Feeling lighter already, she scratched Chocolate behind the ears and made his deep and throaty purr compete with the engine. She no longer noticed the dusty smell of the road wafting in through the missing windows as a sweet minty scent filled her nose instead. 

  
  



	4. Convenience - Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the war, Draco Malfoy has a huge and very personal favour to ask of Harry Potter of all people.

Harry was sitting in one of the offices in the Ministry of Magic. He didn’t have his own office, nor a job of any kind. Hell, he hadn’t even finished his education yet. But as the goblins of Gringotts and the Honored Guardian – basically the master of ceremonies for the Wizengamot – had both informed him independently, Harry was the sole heir and thus the head of the noble and most ancient houses of Potter and Black. Having found out that the Potters were descendents from one of the Peverell brothers, Harry hadn’t been as surprised as he might have been, but he found the rights and duties that came with this status still slightly overwhelming at times. 

For example the two seats in the Wizengamot he held due to it.

Those seats were also the reason for his spending time in an office in the Ministry. These specific offices were available to members of the Wizengamot to conduct any business they wished to, especially to prepare for sessions with documents that couldn’t be removed from the Ministry as a security measure. This applied to a lot of the documents involved in the trials of the captured Death Eaters, that were now starting a couple of months after the final battle, after most of the surviving followers of Voldemort had been captured and all the evidence had been collected.

Harry was looking through all the documents even though he’d opted to not partake in the trials as an active member of the jury. He felt he was too involved personally and considered it a statement supporting a more neutral and objective application of the law than had been common in wizarding Britain for more than a century. There would be some trials in which he would have to appear as a witness, which made him even less suitable to be basically one of the judges.

Making sure he knew exactly how the trials proceeded and making this interest of his public knowledge was just another way to hopefully ensure that the trials were fair and that everybody actually got a trial in the first place. Not that Harry wanted anybody to get off easy or free of punishment, but he certainly wouldn’t stand for a repeat of Sirius’ fate.

The first of the trials had been those of the Malfoys. Not surprisingly, the wizarding public had been highly interested in seeing one of the financially and socially strongest supporters of the Dark Lord taken into responsibility and away to Azkaban.

Harry hadn’t raised a finger to help Lucius, but had argued strongly for Narcissa’s freedom, citing the life debt he owed her and that without her brave lie to Voldemort’s face, he wouldn’t have had a chance to free them all from this monster. As Narcissa had never taken the Dark Mark and had other witnesses in her favour, her chances weren’t all that bad.

How successful Harry’s support for Draco had been was rather uncertain. Not everybody seemed inclined to take his lack of maturity and the high pressure under which the young man had accepted the mark into positive consideration. That he’d neither found it in himself to kill Albus Dumbledore nor had given away Harry’s identity was considered with ambivalence at best, as cowardice at worst.

The three Malfoys were scheduled to receive their sentences right about now and Harry was curious about the outcome, but kept away to avoid the inevitable press and their questions.

A knock at the office door roused Harry from his perusal of the evidence collected against a less well known but not less cruel and dangerous Death Eater whose trial would start the next week. He called to enter and was surprised when one of the clerks assigned to the communal offices announced that an Auror was there, escorting Draco Malfoy who had asked to see Harry for a private conversation.

“Any idea what he wants?” Harry asked the clerk.

“No, Sir. He only said that it was a personal matter and of great importance and urgency or he wouldn’t dare to bother you with it.”

“I actually believe that. Okay, send him in. This was getting rather tedious anyway.” And he put the file he’d been reading together and away in a secured drawer.

A minute later Malfoy stepped through the door with as much dignity as could be expected of a man in magical handcuffs and standard issued robes of the holding cells. The Auror stepped in behind him and was about to close the door behind him.

“Auror …” Harry left the greeting unfinished, waiting for the man to introduce himself.

“Carmichael, Sir. Reginald Carmichael, at your service.”

“Thank you, Auror Carmichael, but I believe Mr. Malfoy asked to speak to me in private, so you should probably wait outside.”

“But he’s a Death Eater. He shouldn’t be given any chance to do more damage.”

“He is barely of age and already opted not to do damage when presented with the chance. I believe I made it quite clear that I do not consider him either a threat or a bad person. I am not about to deny somebody their basic rights as individuals for no apparent reason. Does he have a wand?”

“No, of course not.”

“Has he been searched for poisons, dark artefacts, portkeys and the like?”

“Every morning and evening, Sir.”

“Than I am confident I can protect myself against him should the necessity arise. I did kill Voldemort after all. You may wait outside. Oh, and please take of the bindings. I find they make conversations most awkward.”

“But Lord Potter, Sir …”

“Today, Auror Carmichael. You are wasting my time.”

Harry hadn’t even raised his voice, but the Auror ducked his head and muttered the last of his protest into his rather impressive beard while he cancelled the binding spell around Malfoys wrists and left the room. Malfoy had been quiet throughout the little interaction. Harry did however notice the small smile the blond tried to suppress.

Once the door was closed behind the still grumbling Auror Harry gestured towards the chair in front of the desk. “Have a seat, Malfoy.” He invited in a neutral tone.

“Thank you, Potter. For all of this. I wasn’t sure you’d see me and allowing for this much dignity was certainly not what I expected.”

“Don’t worry about it. I meant what I said during your trial. You were roped into this mess without a real choice and while you were a rather mean and spiteful teenager, you’re not a bad person or a dark wizard. I won’t treat you like one.”

“You’ve grown up. I’m still looking for the boy that denied my friendship and whom I could rile up with a sneer, but he isn’t there anymore, is he?”

“No. The last year or two did quite a bit to chase that boy away and having to deal with the Ministry, the Wizengamot and all their bureaucracy and political games right now is more or less forcing me to grow up the rest of the way. Otherwise I’ll end up either someone’s puppet or completely marginalised. I’m not really interested in political power, but I’ll be damned when our society goes on like it used to and leaves all the problems that helped Voldemort to gain power unaddressed. So I have to make sure I have a certain standing among  _ my peers _ .” You could hear the air quotes around the last term without Harry even making them.

“You certainly act the part. I never thought I’d see you put an Auror in his place like you just did – and with style.”

Harry gave a snort of laughter. “It’s kind of funny actually. For most of my life, they didn’t really give a damn about me and left me alone to face Voldemort and his minions. They even added to my troubles more than once. And now that I’m an adult and the real danger is over, now they want to wrap me in cotton wool. I don’t think so.

“Now, not that I’m not enjoying this little intermezzo from my paperwork, but I believe you had a reason to see me? And I take it the bindings mean that the Wizengamot’s sentence wasn’t in your favour.” There was resigned kind of sadness in the last statement.

“That would be yes to the first and ‘I don’t know’ to the second.”

“Didn’t you receive your sentence yet? I didn’t expect they would break during such a session.”

“I did. I’ve been given two years in Azkaban and an additional five years of probation.”

“Damn. I really hoped they wouldn’t send you to that wretched island.”

Malfoy shrugged. “Yes, I was young and not all that enthusiastic about joining the ranks and two years sound like a scarily long time to spend there, no matter if they send the Dementors back or not. But I did accept the mark and I endangered the whole school when I let the Death Eaters in, so they could have locked me away for a lot longer. During the trial you said I didn’t deserve Azkaban and I really hope you’re right. I just don’t know and so I’m not going to complain.” He’d lowered his gaze to the hands resting in his lap.

Harry could only nod in response to that. Malfoy certainly saw things differently than the boy he’d been before the war and his reactions had changed along with his views. “So what was your reason to come and see me?”

Malfoy straightened his posture and visibly collected his thoughts before he forced ahead. “I have a favour to ask. I know I don’t have the right to do so, but it is technically not for me, though I’d profit from it as well and I’m not exaggerating when I’m saying it is a life or death situation, so I feel I have to at least ask anyway.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at the wave of words deposited in front of him. This kind of openness was rather unusual for Malfoy. That alone would have been enough to wake his curiosity; the actual words said only increased the fact. “I’m listening.”

“Lucius is going to Azkaban for life and that’s exactly what he deserves. The only reason I’m not hoping for the Kiss for him is because it would shorten his suffering.”

That wasn’t at all what Harry had expected and his raised eyebrow was proof of that. But he didn’t interrupt and Malfoy carried on.

“My mother was sentenced to one year of house arrest in a property of her choosing and five years of probation with a monitoring spell on her wand, including the year of house arrest. That’s okay. She did know what was going on and never intervened. She understands the guilt assigned to that. Only, she won’t get to serve her sentence or enjoy the freedom afterwards if I’m sent to Azkaban. She won’t survive.” The last words were barely audible but hit Harry like a stunner nonetheless.

“Care to elaborate on the last part? I know your mother loves you, but having you in prison doesn’t quite qualify as deadly.”

“Not the fact that I’m locked up; it’s the separation that’s the problem. After the Dark Lord was dead, we apparated to Malfoy Manor. We knew the Aurors would come for us and I didn’t really understand why we didn’t just stay at Hogwarts and save everyone the trouble. But the bastard that sired me insisted. He wanted the privacy of home to accomplish one last act of service or revenge or whatever you want to call it. He really loved his Dark Lord more than his family.” At this point the disgust in Malfoy’s voice was unmistakable and ran a lot deeper than it ever had coloured words like ‘mudblood’ or ‘blood traitor’.

“What did he do?”

“He cast a curse on mother. A punishment for having lied to the Dark Lord and thus participated in his downfall. The curse is called “Nesthäkchen-Fluch”. That’s German and isn’t easy to translate, something like ‘pet of the family’ or ‘youngest child-curse’ – sounds a lot nicer than it is.”

“What does it do?”

“It’s cast on the mother and makes her dependent on the closeness of her youngest child – and we’re talking closeness in the most literal sense here. Mother and child need to spend at least two hours a day in each others presence, sharing activities or conversation. Ideally there’s physical contact involved as well, without it, the mother’s health will slowly deteriorate.”

“And if mother and child are kept apart?” Harry had to ask though he had a sinking feeling he knew what the answer would be.

Malfoy’s answer came in a flat intonation. “She dies.”

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The problem was obvious. With Malfoy in Azkaban and his mother under house arrest she wouldn’t be able to visit him and the regulations of the prison wouldn’t allow for what they needed anyway. This equalled a death sentence for Narcissa Malfoy.

“Did you present your situation to the Wizengamot? They’d basically murder a woman they just declared mostly innocent.”

“Yes. We’d told our solicitor about the curse, no one else. He used his rights as our counsellor to ensure mother and I could fulfil the demands of the curse while in the holding cells. He passed the information on to the barrister arguing our case once the verdict had been announced.”

“And did the Wizengamot offer any sort of compromise, made any allowances?” This was asked in a tone implying that Harry feared the worst or that his so called peers had formulated their offer as a cruel mockery.

Malfoy’s answering snort proved his unspoken worries true. “Yeah, they were oh so generous. Mother will be granted the right to serve her house arrest in the guard quarters at Azkaban and we will be granted two hours of visitation rights each day, including one hug. Quite the offer, don’t you agree?”

“It’s pretty much as disgustingly cynic as I feared. I’m just not sure what I can do about it. I took myself of the list of active members for trials and even if not, my vote alone, not even both my votes can turn around an already spoken verdict by the complete Gamot.”

“I know. And I actually understand your passive role in the whole proceedings, no matter what your influence might have been able to achieve.”

“They offered something else, didn’t they? That’s where you hope I will come in.”

“Yes.” Malfoy’s voice had lost all his sarcasm and had dropped back into a quiet almost shy tone. “They agreed to spare me my time in Azkaban if I could find a wizard or witch who’d take full responsibility for me for the next ten years. We’d have to choose one of the rituals that would give him or her full control over me, my possessions, my actions, my magic, my public appearances and statements, everything. This person would of course have to be powerful enough to achieve and hold this measure of control over me and would need to be – and I quote – ‘of undoubted loyalty to the side of good and right in the horrible war our society just suffered’.”

“If they can’t lock you up they want to destroy your social standing and power by forcing you into a state of complete impotence. Clever – cruel but undeniably clever. It is unlikely that you could regain the influence your father has gathered over the years after such an enforced and humiliating time-out.”

“And they want to see me fail. I only have 48 hours to present such a person to the Wizengamot or the offer is off the table. They’re dangling my mother’s rescue right in front of me but do their outmost to keep it just out of reach.”

“They do not believe you can succeed.”

“The list of people who meet the criteria is short. The list of those who might even consider doing me or the family of Malfoy in general such a favour is even shorter. And the list of people I trust to not abuse such power to lock me up as a human punching bag and let my mother die anyway is pretty much non-existent.” Malfoy’s eyes focused on Harry’s for the first time and their stare was filled with so much hurt, worry and the faintest glimmer of hope that Harry felt the impact of it almost physically. “Which brings me to you, Potter. You are my list.”

Harry had seen it coming the longer they talked, had anticipated the enormity of what Malfoy had come to ask of him. Confronted with the actual plea he still had to swallow and take a deep breath he then let go very slowly.

“How exactly would you propose we go about this? You said there were a number of rituals that would fulfil the demands, which one do you have in mind should I agree?”

The flash of growing hope in Malfoy’s eyes and posture was unmistakable, no matter he tried to keep his neutral composure, he was too careful a person and too much of a Slytherin to believe his case won.

“There are other possibilities but I was thinking of a  _ matrimonium manus totas potestas _ .”

Harry frowned. “I think I remember that. It’s a form of marriage, isn’t it? I don’t recall the details, just that it wasn’t something I’d ask of my future spouse and that neither party could be tricked into it. I didn’t read any further”

“You looked up marriage rites? Isn’t that a girly thing to do?” Harry was glad to see a little of the old spirit returning to Malfoy’s eyes, though the teasing held none of the formerly usual spitefulness.

“When everybody and their brother – or sister in this case – has set out to lure you into a marriage it counts as strategic preparation. It’s astonishing on what atrocities people are willing to found a marriage, just for a little fame and money.” Harry’s tone must have given Malfoy the impression that the topic was a sore spot, so he didn’t push for more. Harry shook himself out of his thoughts and returned to the topic at hand. “Tell me the details of this matrimonium, what it would imply for both of us.”

“It goes back to ancient Roman traditions and treats one spouse – traditionally the wife – as property of the other, the pater familias if we stick with Roman terms. I would depend on your permission for pretty much everything, you could limit my movement, my ability to use magic or just not allow me a wand at all. You would be allowed to make every decision for me; from my clothes and the food I eat, over my occupation, to how I vote in elections. Everything I own would become yours to do with as you please. I wouldn’t have any say in it. It would be my sole duty to do as you ask of me and act in your best interest.”

“Sounds like the blueprint for the Gamot’s demands. Can such a marriage be divorced?”

“Yes, but only by you. As I’d be considered your property it would be your prerogative to repudiate me. Often there are clauses agreed on before the wedding, that in such a situation the submissive spouse is to be given a certain sum of money from what she brought into the marriage, but that is not necessary. You could demand to keep my whole fortune in such a case. You’d also have every right to keep children should there be any with you and not even allow me visitations.”

“Now I remember why I didn’t like this form of marriage. It has not even the most basic forms of balance between the partners. And you’d really want to enter such a marriage as the submissive partner?”

“It’s not the kind of wedding I had envisioned for my future, no. But given the circumstances it is an acceptable arrangement and a sacrifice I’m willing to make to save my mother.”

“Why not one of the other rituals you mentioned?”

“They all have similar effects. One or two could be considered as well, I’m willing to do pretty much everything. A lot are so close to dark magic that I’d rather stay away from them and I didn’t think you’d be willing to participate in those. Others are irreversible and I don’t believe you want to be burdened with my company for life.”

“I wouldn’t want to keep you tied to me longer than necessary if it isn’t what both of us want, no.” Harry answered a little distracted. He was already turning the whole situation and Malfoy’s question over in his mind, trying to form a decision.

“Are there any boundaries to what I can do in this marriage?” Harry asked, trying to get the whole picture.

“You’re not allowed to kill me or do me unduly bodily harm. You have to provide the necessities of life and allow me access to medical care, though it is your right to choose my healer. To ensure my mother’s safety I’d ask you to make a vow to allow for the demands of the curse as long as it is still in effect. Once the marriage is in place magic would compel me to tell you the truth so I can’t pretend the curse lasts longer than it actually does.” Malfoy gave all these information without hesitation, but after his last point his voice and eyes dropped, telling Harry he was about to hear the catch in it all. “You can’t enter another marriage while the matrimonium is in place.”

“I hadn’t expected I would. Marriage is all about exclusive pair bonding after all.”

Draco’s voice picked up a bit at Harry’s apparent acceptance of the fact. “While I can’t have any intimate relationships outside of this marriage you’d be free to pursue whatever romantic or erotic interest you have, you just can’t marry as long as we are married. I don’t know about your current love life – I didn’t exactly have access to papers during the last months – so I don’t know if there is someone you might be interest in getting married to in the next couple of years. Ginny Weasley perhaps?”

“No, there’s nothing between me and Ginny. As I mentioned earlier I have been targeted by people interested in getting married to me for all kinds of reasons, usually highly egoistic or at least misguided ones. Being of the market so to speak might actually be beneficial to me.” Harry murmured half to himself. 

Silence fell between them with Malfoy growing slightly anxious while Harry was thinking.

Eventually Malfoy couldn’t stand it any longer. “I know it is a lot to ask. I know you have no reason to do this for us. You’ve done so much for the wizarding world over the years that you’re probably sick and tired of people asking anything from you. I’m just really desperate. But please don’t feel obligated.” He was talking quicker and sounded a little breathless. “This is neither your problem nor your fault or responsibility. I shouldn’t have come to you, it was presumptuous of me. I’m sorry to have wasted your time. Thanks for listening anyway. So long, Potter.” He had gotten up and turned towards the door, ready to return to his holding cell.

“I’ll give you my answer by tomorrow afternoon.”

“What?!” Malfoy swirled around, an expression of shock on his face.

“It’s too big a decision and responsibility to be rushed. I need a little more time to think it through. I’ll give you my answer tomorrow.”

“You’re actually considering it? You might really help us?” Malfoy’s disbelieve was plainly obvious on his face. “Why?”

“Because it’s the kind of guy I am and because I don’t like the way the Wizengamot is playing this, using your family as scapegoats for every evil they’ve never acted against so far. I’m not sure I can really do this, I may propose a different solution, but I’m not just shrugging you off and letting your mother meet her fate. Isn’t that why you came to me in the first place?”

Malfoy was so dumbfounded it took him a while to gather his wits. “Yes. I just never really believed you’d consider us worthy of your help. Not after everything in our past.”

“I’m trying to leave the past behind. I find it has the potential to limit the future.”

“Thank you.” The simple words were silent but heartfelt.

Harry gave Malfoy a nod and the blonde left the office.

  
  



	5. Time For A Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The BAU has had the worst of days but maybe, just maybe, a miracle can fix the unfixable - it's Christmas after all and Aaron knows just the person to ask.

Spencer was pottering around his shop, tidying up the last books and toys strewn about from the Christmas shoppers. He was trying to decide which type of coffee he’d reward himself with for a job well done before cleaning and shutting off the machines for the holidays. 

He’d be heading over to Aaron’s apartment later, even though his partner was still working a case. Aaron had given him his own set of keys earlier in the year and Spencer still marvelled at how well Aaron had adjusted to the revelations of their last Christmas and that their relationship had survived, even though there had been a few moments of awkwardness at first. At least, the BAU’s current case was local and there was a decent chance that Aaron would be home at some point during the night.

Spencer hoped Aaron would make it before he had to start his Santa trip but if not, he could always wake him up when he got back. Not keeping this big secret from his lover was rather nice.

He had just pushed the last book into its place on the shelf and was coming down one of the staircases when there was insistent banging on the door. Getting ready to give such a rude customer with poor planning skills a piece of his mind, he was shocked to find Aaron outside, looking desperate and with an awful lot of blood all over his clothes.

He hurriedly unlocked the door and before he could even ask what had happened, Aaron beat him to it.

“I’ve seen enough sci-fi to know there are likely some sort of rules or limitations on time travel but I need to ask for a miracle.”

Spencer stopped the flow of words with a raised hand and pulled Aaron inside. He was reasonably sure that his partner wasn’t the one hurt and this did not sound like a conversation to be had in an open doorway.

“Come inside, I’ll make some tea. You’ll have to think very carefully about what you tell me because the most pertinent rule in this case is that one cannot change what one knows to be true.”

Aaron allowed himself to be pushed into a chair and let out a breath he must have been holding. By the time Spencer returned with two large mugs of tea, Aaron had shed his ruined suit jacket and was looking as defeated as Spencer had ever seen him, slumped over with his elbows on his knees and his head resting in his hands.

“Here, this should help a little,” Spencer said quietly as he sat down the mug.

“Despite the insistence of the British, tea does not fix everything,” Aaron snarked without any real bite.

“I said help, not fix. Have a drink and when you’ve sorted out your thoughts, I’ll be ready to listen.”

Aaron cradled the warm mug in his fingers and just inhaled the calming scent of the fresh mint for a few minutes.

“This might not even be possible. I never asked you when the ripples start and how far Diana can travel on them. I rushed here, thinking that there might be a tiny chance to fix this, to make a horrible wrong right again. That today of all days meant that there was a chance for a miracle. Having you in my life, learning who you really are, has given me the kind of hope a man in my line of work doesn’t normally allow himself to indulge in.” He fell quiet and finally took a sip of his tea.

Spencer wasn’t sure what to make of the very personal confession Aaron had just made so he focused on the practical question. “The ripples start late on the 23rd. It varies a little from year to year. They aren’t equally stable all the time through so Diana can’t travel well on the earliest or latest, the jumps she can manage through both time and space get smaller and smaller then.”

Aaron nodded thoughtfully. “If I gave you a time and a place,” he started haltingly, “today and in DC, and told you that a certain person can’t be standing in a specific spot, could you travel there and just pull them aside?”

“It would be better if you didn’t even tell me who but yes, I think I could do that. But I need you to think through all the possible consequences. How might things change when this person is not in that spot? Might that put somebody else in danger? We have on shot at this, Aaron. Me going back to the same time and space again creates a… think of it of a whirlpool. Normally, a Tardis can weather such conditions to some degree and stabilise the space-time-continuum around her but Diana would be swept away or could even be hurt further so there will be no do-over if my actions make things worse.”

Aaron nodded slowly and stared at the table top unseeingly.

“I can’t see how pulling this one person aside could have a bad effect. It was a rush of events, many things happening at the same time. Everything was already in motion before she-” He stopped himself and let out a shuddering breath. “This not saying too much thing is harder than I would have expected. I’ve had the whole chain of events play out in my head over and over again since it happened. I really don’t think there’s a chance of your intervention making it worse.”

“Okay then. Give me the address.” In the background, he could see Diana’s doors opening slightly. They used to make a difference in the universe and as much as they’d both grown content with their change of pace, the chance to make a real difference again made her eager.

Aaron had raised an eyebrow at him. “What, just the address? Don’t you need coordinates or something?” He tried to put a bit of humour into his tone but Spencer could easily tell that he wasn’t feeling it.

“The system for coordinates you humans chose is just as random as your addresses. Diana can deal with either. She only has a bit of a limp, she’s still brilliant,” Spencer answered softly.

“Sorry.” Aaron cringed and then turned towards the shelving unit that served as Diana’s parking space. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you, Diana. I’m still a bit out of my depth when it comes to your abilities.”

A cheerful tinkling sound and a warm pulse of light made Aaron relax as he took it as the acceptance of his apology that it was.

“Right,” he turned back to Spencer and pulled the small notebook he carried from his pocket. “This is the address, it’s a warehouse full of wooden crates. We arrived at 3:20 pm and the moment you need to change was at 3:32.” He swallowed heavily and closed his eyes for a moment at what Spencer assumed was a rush of memories. “It happened towards the northeast corner about 60 feet down the eastern wall. Don’t - don’t let anyone step out into the gap between the crates.” 

The last words carried so much desperation that Spencer couldn’t help reaching across the table for Aaron’s hand to squeeze. It would be their two year anniversary in a few days and he’d seen Aaron struggle with the experiences of his job. It had taken his lover a while to open up to him but learning of Spencer’s true identity a year ago had ended up making it easier. Still, Spencer had never seen so much anguish in his eyes before.

“You’ve given me everything I need. Time can be stubborn so there are no guarantees but I think I can fix this.”

Aaron’s shoulders relaxed imperceptibly at that. “Can I come with you?”

“No. You know what happened the first time around. You’ve seen it, lived through it. With your certainty around, time and the initial events would reassert themselves one way or another. As much as I might have assumed from what you told me and the state of you, assumptions are no certainties. And Time Lords are less linear by nature and therefore time clings to us less. I know it is your nature to take the initiative and don’t push other people into responsibilities you consider your own. But you’ll have to trust me on this one.”

It was Aaron’s turn to squeeze Spencer’s fingers. “It’s not a lack of trust, please don’t believe that.”

“I know.” Spencer smiled at Aaron. “If there’s nothing else, I guess Diana and I better get going.” He drained the last of his tea to give Aaron a moment in case he thought of anything to add, and when nothing was forthcoming, he got up and grabbed his coat and scarf from the hooks in the corner.

Aaron got up as well and escorted him over to Diana’s open doors. She hummed at him in her own attempt of encouragement and he patted her door frame with a weak smile. “Thank you, old girl. I appreciate your efforts.” He turned to Spencer. “I guess I’ll be waiting here for you then.”

“No, you won’t. At least I hope not. If this goes well, you’ll have no reason to come here."

  
  



	6. Christmas Crafts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dad of Jack's new classmate makes this Christmas crafting afternoon surprisingly fun for Aaron.
> 
> (The title only refers to this chapter. I have no idea yet what the whole story will be called.)

Aaron drove up the driveway of New Haven with mixed feelings. Jack had been excited over the pre-Christmas crafts afternoon that parents were invited and encouraged to participate in and Aaron was glad that the team hadn’t caught a case, allowing him to take the afternoon off and take part in something that was important to his son. 

However, similar events in the past had taught him that he’d be one of very few, if not the only father attending, and that there were entirely too many mothers around that were hunting for either their next husband or an affair to get a bit of a thrill back into their boring, suburban lifes. His constant decline of all romantic and sexual offers had already sparked rumours about his sexuality, which he wouldn’t mind at all if they didn’t bring with them the attention of women who thought homosexuality could be ‘cured’ by their own prowess in bed.

But Jack loved his new school and was thriving in the more challenging environment. When Reid had suggested the private school, Aaron had been hesitant based on his own experiences with the elitism often rampart in such institutions. But the public school in their district had been all too casual with Jack’s safety after promising him that all his requirements - which he had tried his best to keep reasonable - would of course be fulfilled. Closer looks at other schools in the area hadn’t invoked any more trust, so he was open to alternatives. 

Jack hadn’t made any close friendships amongst his classmates at that point and was bored in most subjects, with the teachers making no effort to rectify that in any way. In the end, the change had been easy to make after Jack had passed the entry exam with flying colours and the schools security measures proved far beyond what Aaron considered necessary for Jack, but made perfect sense given the number of children of highly influential movers and shakers of the DC area that attended New Haven. The school also had an extensive scholarship program to allow gifted children from less wealthy families to get an excellent education. With roughly one third of each class coming from middle and working class families, elitism was much less of an issue.

And between the school being good for Jack and more importantly making his son happy, Aaron set aside any personal discomfort and got involved in school events as often as he could.

The invitation sent home with the kids had stated which room they’d be in for the afternoon and Aaron had no problems finding the large and airy room. He stayed in the doorway for a moment, taking in the fairy lights and garlands creating a festive mood. The tables had been pushed together in groups and each held materials and examples for one of the suggested crafts projects the teachers had put together. One corner held a buffet style setup with drinks and snacks, which Aaron headed for first to add the cinnamon mini muffins Jessica had made as their contribution. 

He was greeted by a few of Jack’s teachers he’d already met and introduced to a few more. Jessica had told him that the faculty liked to use afternoons like this to get in contact with the parents without the stress of discussing recent report cards or the like, and Aaron appreciated their effort. He had come across too many stories where teachers judged children harshly because they had no understanding of their familiar background, sometimes with horrible outcomes. It was one more reason why he’d skipped his suit jacket and tie in favour of a soft and elegant sweater - he had no wish to intimidate Jack’s teachers unless they gave him a reason.

“Daddy!” Jack interrupted the conversation when his son finally noticed he’d arrived. He’d seen him right away, sitting at one of the tables with a few other kids and parents who had arrived even earlier than him.

“Hey, buddy! Did you guys have fun setting everything up?”

Jack nodded vigorously. “Yes. Come meet Teddy, he’s new. His dad is here as well.”

Aaron pulled an apologetic face at the smiling teachers as he let himself be dragged over to the table Jack had been at before.

“This is my dad,” Jack started the introductions. “Dad, this is Teddy and his dad.” Jack pointed at a boy with wavy brown hair and a young man in his twenties with glasses and the most unruly black hair Aaron had ever seen.

“Harry Potter, pleasure to meet you,” the man said and got up, stretching his hand across the table with a smile.

“Aaron Hotchner, pleasure is all mine. Hello, Teddy, it’s nice to meet you, too.”

“Hello, Mr Hotchner,” the boy just waved, holding down what Aaron assumed to be a freshly glued point on whatever they were making with his other hand. Jack had already taken his seat again and gotten back to his own set of swirly paper forms so Aaron pulled out the chair at his side.

“What are we making?”

“3D paper snowflakes or stars, could be either. You need six squares of paper so pick a colour. Mine is green and gold,” Jack instructed.

Following Jack’s instructions and Potter’s clarifications, Aaron’s first snowflake - white and iceblue - was already taking shape when the headmistress officially greeted everyone, declared the buffet opened, and wished them all a fund afternoon. He was content to let the boys and their classmates run most of the conversation around the table and give the crafts aspect his best effort.

He positioned himself so that he had the room in his view and the occasional look around showed him that the three other fathers present very much looked the part of having been dragged along against their will. The mothers were about equal parts crafting alongside their kids, preferring to chat and drink coffee, or were overbearingly crafting for their annoyed and resigned looking offspring.

It was very obvious that they boys and Potter not only had a head start but were also more adept at crafting and they each had two stars or snowflakes put together by the time Aaron had finished his one to his satisfaction.

“So, what do you want to do next?” Potter asked Teddy who in turn looked questioningly at Jack and then around the room which tables had room for them.

“How about the snowglobes?” Teddy offered.

“Yes, please!” Jack was more excited than Aaron had expected. “Aunt Jess and I found the perfect figurines for Aunt Penny and Uncle Spence and I want to make them snowglobes for Christmas.”

“Sounds like we have a plan,” Aaron agreed. He had enough of an idea how the globes were put together not to want to do the messy process at home and find glitter everywhere for years. “But what do we do with our paper stars in the meantime?”

“Our boxes!” The boys yelled out in unison and dashed away, leaving bemused fathers behind.

“I’m glad Teddy found a friend so quickly. Moving isn’t always easy, especially not in the middle of a school term,” Potter said.

“And I assume moving into a completely different country only makes it more difficult,” Aaron observed.

Potter gave a wry smile. “Did our accents give it away that easily?”

“They are noticeable, though I have a habit of paying attention to details. Perils of the job.”

“Jack had already mentioned that you were an FBI agent. You don’t have to apologise for the habits that come with your career.”

The boys returned at that point with the boxes that normally held their materials in their main classroom and that had apparently been emptied for this purpose and placed the paper structures inside before slotting the boxes onto the windowsill where other boxes already sat.

Snowglobes turned out to be very much a helping job for the parents and one teacher was always present, preventing the kids from handling the hot glue gun or making too much of a mess with the liquids and glitter. 

“Papa, I made these. Can I put them into snowglobes and can we send them to Aunt Mione and Aunt Luna in time for Christmas?” Teddy asked and pulled two little stone figures out of his pocket. One was clearly a rather plump red cat but the other…

“Is that a radish?” Aaron couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Yes!” Teddy proclaimed proudly. “I tried to make it match Aunt Luna’s favourite earrings. And this is supposed to be Crookshanks, Aunt Mione’s cat.”

“They will love them. You did a great job with the carving,” Potter praised. “And yes, we can definitely get them their presents in time. Have you decided which colours of glitter you want yet?”

They debated the various options. Jack was quick to decide that the little Tardis he’d found for Reid could only get all the purple glitter and Aaron fully agreed. The pink-haired troll for Garcia got assigned the same rainbow glitter as Teddy wanted for his aunt Luna who sounded a little bit as eccentric as his analyst. The stone Crookshanks got green and gold to match his fur and because the real cat loved the outdoors.

Once the globes were finished and all hands were washed, Aaron was ready for a cup of coffee.

“I’m getting coffee, would you like some?” He offered Potter.

“Tea, actually, if you don’t mind. Black with one sugar.”

Aaron nodded. “Anything to consider when I grab something for Teddy?”

“No, he’s easy on that front. Thank you.” The grateful smile was far beyond simple politeness and made the other man’s face light up in a way that made him even more attractive. Aaron forced himself to walk away towards the buffet table. Getting attracted to the dad of one of his son’s friends could get all kinds of complicated. But he definitely was intrigued.

Putting together a mixed plate of treats for the four of them, he was inevitably approached by one of the mothers who liked to pester him.

“I see you are making friends with the father of the new kid, Aaron. Don’t you agree that he’s awfully young to have an eight-year-old?”

“The boys are getting along well and seem determined to spend the afternoon together, which I have no issue with. As for Mr Potter’s age, I prefer not to judge based on such arbitrary details. Whatever his situation he clearly rose to the responsibility of raising the boy and looking at Teddy’s behaviour so far, he appears to do a good job and love the boy dearly. Isn’t that what we should really worry about, Mrs Thornton?” She might address him informally without having been invited to but he wasn’t about to budge an inch on his front. He simply ignored her indignant expression in favour of pouring cups of coffee and tea, and grabbing juice boxes for the boys.

He found Jack and Teddy industriously gluing together pieces of felt and faux fur to create little Santas or maybe more like Christmas gnomes and settled in beside Potter, handing over the man’s tea.

“Thank you. Dare I ask what horrible things the leader of the flock had to say about me?” Potter asked with an amused smile.

“Already figured her out, did you? She criticised that in her irrelevant opinion, you are too young to be a father to a kid of Teddy’s age.”

“Papa, is really my godfather but my parents died when I was suuuper little and he adopted me,” Teddy threw in as he grabbed one of the juice boxes before he went back to his little Santa.

  
  



End file.
